


Dad!AU: The Naked and the Dead

by TheeWrites_TF2



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comic canon divergance, Dad!Sniper, Dad!Sniper AU, Deal With It, Epic Bromance, Killer Robots, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Robots, SniperSpy bromance, Snipers, TF2 Comics, The Naked and the Dead, Yes this is a new thing, dad!au, dammit, minor Dad!Spy, then go ahead, unless you wanna ship it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheeWrites_TF2/pseuds/TheeWrites_TF2
Summary: “I am a man of science, I do NOT make mistakes and zhis…” He glanced at the files for a long moment, before sighing, looking at the Australian who was having a panic attack.“Zhis is no mistake.”(Or, what if it wasn't Dad!Spy?)((Completed))





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> A.N.  
> Thanks to the lovely inspiration from thebestpartofwakingup on tumblr, this little drabble came into reality, and, well... Here it is! I won't chat for long, y'all have Part 1 to read of this bad boy! So, get on with it!
> 
> if you haven't read the Team Fortress comics, most of this will make little sense, so SPOILER ALERT!
> 
> Warnings: Dads are awkward and kinda shitty here, at least Spy is, alcohal, blood, post reanimation, smoking is bad kids, guns, Scout is a smartass, and Soldier is running around naked somewhere in the background. Welcome to Team Fortress!

**_[Inspiraion for this Two-shot](http://thebestpartofwakingup.tumblr.com/post/165649506298/proposed-tf2-au-sniper-turns-out-to-be-scouts) _ **

**_Enjoy!_ **

* * *

 

**_1_ ** **_969, Somewhere in the Badlands…_ ** ****

The knocking woke him immediately, though he didn’t move for a long moment, as he let his instincts help him figure out just who the hell would wake him up at this time of night. Sniper grumbled, rolling out of bed. “‘right, right…” He grumbled, shuffling over to the door, wincing as his aging bones creaked and groaned under the sudden movement. Placing his hand on the handle of his camper door, he paused just before opening, reaching over to cover himself up with a large shirt.

Though he was pissed at the man who woke him, he wasn’t that uncivilized to not cover up before punching him in the face.

The Australian cracked open the door, glaring at his visitor. “Doc. Go away.” He grumbled, noting the Doctors panicked and flustered expression, opening the door more with a frown. “Wot is it? Not an attack, right?” He leaned out slightly, glaring around into the dark, practically pitch black desert. The RED team’s Medic shook his head, reaching up the fix his glasses. “Vell, no. No attack, but-” “Then ‘im not interested.” Sniper snapped, going to slam the door. “Good NIGHT.” 

Medic quickly put his foot between the door and the doorway, wincing slightly, “Lawrance, you need to see this.” The rare use of the Snipers first name made him pause, but he didn’t open the door. “ Sniper, Lawrence, please. You need to see zhis.” A gloved hand moved through the crack in the doorway, holding out a small manilla folder. “Please… You MUST read it.” The doctor said cryptically as the Sniper closed his fingers around the folder, before moving away from the door, allowing Lawrence to shut the door fully. The doctor took a few steps away from the camper, waiting expectantly, slightly anxious of the unpredictable reaction he was about to receive.

Sniper raised his brow down at the manilla file, frowning at the bold red print on the file. The words ‘ **TOP SECRET** ’ screamed up at him, and he flicked the light on by his bunk to red the smaller print underneath.

**SCOUTS DAD**

Sniper scoffed at the title, and why the hell Medic would give him this, and went to flip open the file, when he suddenly got the weirdest feeling in his gut. Like someone had just socked him with a fifty pound hammer, the Sniper felt beads of ice-cold sweat pepper his brow. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly flipped open the file…

A minute passed… two… Medic counted to three and a quarter, before the van door kicked open, and a frazzled, panting Australian popped out, eyes wide and panicked. Medic himself was feeling uncertain, and slowly reached out to tap his teammates shoulder. “Lawrence?” Medic felt a death grip on his forearm, but before he could process the less-than-comforting action, he found himself sprawled on the ground, a  _ very _ pissed off Australian standing over him. “Ya...Your _ sick. _ ” The man snarled, raising his arm the throw down the file at the stunned Medic. “V-vell, no. Sniper, i’m sure zhis is VERY surprising, but I can assure you-” Sniper was already shaking his head, a frantic edge on his body that made every action looked panicked. “No, this… this is a bloody  _ PRANK. _ Ya, ya and the stupid… bloody…” Sniper was breathing heavily, stepping away shakily as the downed doctor struggled to sit up. “Lawrence, calm yourself.” medic insisted, looking annoyed. “I am a man of science, I do NOT make mistakes and zhis…” He glanced at the files for a long moment, before sighing, looking at the Australian who was having a panic attack.

“Zhis is no mistake.”

Sniper just stared, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Then he swerved around, making a beeline for the driver's seat of his camper, launching himself inside and somehow finding a way to start the vehicle. Medic stood as he started the engine, before the Sniper wheels squealed in protest at the sudden action, kicking up dust as his camper race away. Medic watched the dust trail after the vehicle for a long moment, before sighing, brushing the dust out of his hair and reaching down to pick up the file and the dropped papers. 

He sighed as he picked up the suspected culprit to Snipers current meltdown, gazing at the names, two photos, and the simple, yet destructive word between the image of his teams young Bostonian Scout and the currently panicking Australian Sniper.

**MATCH**

* * *

 

_ September 1972, Somewhere in the Southern Pacific... _

Sniper was having a pretty shitty day. Maybe it had something to due with being clinically dead for around twelve hours, after being shot in the chest by another Sniper, or the fact that his team and himself were surrounded by killer robots, as well as the men who were hired to murder them, on a small island in the middle of nowhere.

There were honestly too many possible primary causes for his bad day, so he just stuck with the still-oozing lacerations along his stomach, from his own autopsy hours before. Seemed like a good place to start.

Bracing against the wall with a plank in his hand, he watched as Spy- who had quite literally appered out of thin air and handed him a wooden plank- take on the image of the poor, legless bastard Sniper had clocked a few hallways back. Plan was relatively simple, Spy would go in, get Sniper’s murderer  _ (did it still count as murder if he came back to life?) _ to walk out, and the Australian would knock the old bastard back to next Thursday with his plank. Wasn’t the best plan, and to be honest, they hadn’t discussed what they would do afterwards, but Sniper looked forward to somewhat repaying his mortal debt to the old man.

The ‘Engineer’ before him gave him a raised brow, and Sniper nodded firmly, adjusting his grip on the wood.  _ ‘Go git’em, Frenchy.’ _ He thought, as Spy began his act, knocking frantically on the door. “Virgil, it's me! Let me in!” Sniper smirked at Spy’s creaky, aged impression of an old man, and got a side glare in response, before responding to the muffled questioning from inside, “Virg, three of us are  _ dead _ and the boss is  _ PISSED _ , now let me IN!” 

Another muffled curse, before the door slid open, leading to the ‘Engineer’ to quickly stride in, quickly taking on the role of Fred Conagher, the original Engineer mercenary. “Pack it up. Boss wants everyone back in the Comm room.” ‘Fred’ gruffed, and Virgil snapped back, “ _ Now _ ? Has he lost his damn mind?” Sniper heard his predecessor shuffle closer to the door, before stopping a few feet away. The Australian forced down his pain, both external and internal, to keep his breath steady, eyes fixated on the shadow that the elder cast, just inches away from his own bare feet. “They’ve go _ t guns _ now, Fred.”

Pause, from both the disguised Spy and the reanimated Sniper. “What, when?” Spy asked the same question that was on Sniper’s mind. Virgil scoffed, “Just now, some…  _ naked man _ fell outta the sky.” Sniper frowned, raising a skeptical brow. ‘ _ What the hell…? _ ’ Sniper thought, trying to figure out if that was just code or a sick prank. “Came down with the Big Guy and that brat from… Damn, what was it? Boston?”

A second too late, Sniper realized his sudden release of breath was audible, and with a loud bang and and slam, Virgil locked the door. Sniper snapped back, and cursed, dropping the plank and racing towards the stairs. “Dammit…” He panted, racing up the steps to find a second entrance to the death-trap Spy was suddenly locked in. “Bugger.” Sniper tried the knob on the door, before taking a step back. 

_ “That brat…” _

“RRNNH!... _ Bugger. _ ” Sniper ignored the pain, he had to. And as he crawled up from the remains of the door, he cursed, feeling the blood drip from the slices along his abdomen. “ _ Bugger… _ ” He pulled himself up, fingers grasping at the windowsill shakeningly. Another deep breath, rearing his fist back, and there was suddenly a sizable hole in the window, and about a dozen glass shards along his knuckles.

_ “From… Damn, what was it?” _

Sniper should probably care about the fact that there was a notable  _ ripppp _ as he crawled out of the broken window to the ledge below, and he should also probably be concerned about how… exposed he suddenly was. He ignored all that, damn all that.

_ “Boston?” _

He had about a dozen other things to worry about, and pausing to listen to Virgil’s bargaining was not apart of his plan. Without a second thought, Sniper pulled the trigger. Clean headshot. From his lounging against the wall, a recently injured Spy watched with a raised brow as Sniper dropped the older mans sniper, reaching down to the fresh corpse and tugging off the large overcoat. “Looting a corpse? Hm… You Snipers really are some of the worst people on the planet.” Spy snorted, taking a drag from his smoke.

Sniper ignored him, skillfully ripping off parts of the coat, before tying it around his waist. As an afterthought, the Australian took one of the sleeves and used it to cover the dripping cut on his chest. “ _ Hrgh. _ ..C’mon, we gotta go.” he grunted, holding a hand out to Spy, receiving only a raised brow in return. “Bushman, where do you expect to go?” He asked, looking over current attire Sniper now wore. “Do you expect to fight like that?”

“Ain’t gonna fight,” he snapped, retracting his hand to grab Virgil’s own rifle. “You heard what he said, didn’t you?” Spy hesitate, before rolling his eyes. “Lawrence, you’ll get yourself killed out there-” “‘m done listening to your advice.” Sniper interrupted, turning to meet Spy’s eyes. “Already died once today. I’d like to tell ‘im the truth before we’re ripped apart by those metal bastards.”

“Now, are ya comin’ with me, or am I leavin’ ya ‘ere?”

For a moment, Spy looked indifferent, before, after taking a deep breath, stood. Leaning heavily against the wall, Sniper grabbed the abandoned plank, for him to use as type of crutch.

“You’re really going to tell him.” Spy asked, almost surprised. Sniper nodded, heading back towards the window, which seemed like the easiest escape route. “I am,” Sniper said, bracing his grip along the window sill, ready to haul himself over. “Three years of keepin’ that secret is too long. If ‘m gonna die, he’s gonna know.”

Spy scoffed, though it sounded pain as he leaned on his bullet wound. “Hm. What a noble father you are.”

* * *

 

**Badlands, 1969**

“... Well. This is… unexpected.” Spy stated the obvious, sipping his classic scotch as he ran his calculating gaze over the DNA reports, the Australian in front of him pacing to and fro. “Lawrence, please don’t ruin my carpeting. It’s worth more than your camper, your paycheck, and your very existence.” Sniper ignored him, running his hands through wild, askew brown hair. He knew it was a bad idea to leave the windows down, his hair wouldn’t be manageable for another week, but Lawrence had hoped it would be a distraction of his racing thoughts.

It hadn’t, and somehow the said thoughts led him to probably the worst person on this base, the man who would no doubt hold this new information over his head for years to come… Yet, he was the only person Sniper could possibly come to for help.

“Listen, I-i… ‘ve no idea what to do.” Sniper said, stopping in front of the Frenchman. “And I trust ya ‘bout as far as ya stay away from ya damn smokes,” Spy was in the process of lighting a new cigarette, but paused at this comment, raising a brow. “But…” Sniper finally stopped pacing, chewing on his bottom lip, clearly agitated. Spy sighed, before gesturing to the armchair across from him. “Sit down, _Pour l'amour de Dieu_.” he muttered, rolling his eyes as the man slumped into the seat. ‘ _ And he has the gall to call me a drama queen, _ ’ Spy thought. “So… timeline matches up?” He asked casually, nodding at the file before him. Sniper nodded sullenly. “... Was my graduation party...I was terrible at algebra, but even I could…” He coughed, glancing away. “Twenty-three years, and add nine months… it fits.” Spy raised a brow, “At a party…?” Sniper felt his ears grow hot. “...Someone met these tourists outside the club...T-there may have been a…” A cough, a shift… Spy was almost tempted to smirk at the man’s discomfort, however he didn’t want to scare him off before he gained all the delightful details.

“... May have been… some drinks… and a hotel room.” 

“And no  _ préservatif,  _ hmmm?”

Lawrence blinked, before raising a brow. Spy allowed the smirk on his face, and after a long moment, Sniper got the message and reddened. “... I was an idiot, ‘right?” Sniper grumbled, wringing his hands. “I was a real arse, I won’t deny it.” A sigh, and Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut, almost looking in pain. “But if I had  _ known…  _ Would’ve left Australia. Would’ve stayed clean from this killin’ work, would’ve done everythin’ and anythin’, but because of being a right _idiot_ twenty-three years ago, kid had to grow up without a…” He trailed off, and Spy raised a brow as the rant finally ended.

Sniper took a deep breath, before leaning forward, hands clasped under his chin to keep himself from shaking. “‘M gonna be straight with ya.” Sniper said. “I don’ like ya all that much, I barely trust ya…” A sigh.

“But ya the only other person on base, that can at least…  _ understand _ what ‘m going through, right?” The last phase was almost a plea, and Spy raised a brow. “You want my help, with this situation.” It wasn’t a question, but Sniper found himself nodding. Spy smirked into his glass, “Excellent… I can get rid of the problem within the hour, just allow me to finish my-” Sniper frowned and shook his head, “Spy, no, i’m not askin’ ya to… to get  _ RID _ of the problem!” He insisted and Spy frowned, “Are you sure? The boy may be fast, but for the right price…” “ _ NO _ .” Spy rolled his eyes, reaching up to massage his temple, “Fine, you want my advice?”

He almost laughed at the eager, puppy-like look the Australian gave him. 

“Forget about it.”

That time, he did laugh, when he saw that eager expression fall, replaced with wide-eyes. “...Huh?” Spy chuckled, looking towards the fireplace. “Simple, bushman. Forget about it. Don’t think about it, move on without ever acknowledging such an… unfortunate situation.” Spy raised a glass to his lips, only to freeze at Snipers biting reply, “Explains why ya own kid doesn’t care for ya.” Spy turned, eyes sharp but Sniper pressed on, in a topic he knew was specifically off limits. “Ain't because there's a battlefield between ya. Cause his old man won't’ take the time to even acknowledge his existence…” Sniper chuckled, shaking his head. “He’ll, maybe he ain’t the only child you're doing this stupid, selfish charade t-”

“ _Fais gaffe.”_ Spy said the warning in French, but Sniper understood and held back his next jeer. Spy was actually bristling before him, glove straining under his tense fist, blue eyes dark. It went silent in the smoking room, only the fire crackling in the strained atmosphere.

Spy grumbled, reaching over to top off his glass. “Lawrence. Just don’t push it.” Spy tossed his used cigarette into the fire, eyes narrowed. “It won’t end well. For you, for him… So just forget it.” Sniper was quiet, looking everywhere but at the suddenly drained Frenchman before him. After a moment, Lawrence stood, and without another word, strode out of the room. Spy didn’t look as the door slammed, nor did he heed any concern as he calmly rose from his seat, before smashing his glass into the burning cinders of the fire. Sniper rolled his eyes from down the hallway when he heard the crashing glass. “Damn drama queen…” He muttered, and strode away, slowing when he passed a certain emblem on the doorway. Lawrence paused, eyes narrowed as he was fixated on the doorway to a certain Bostonians room. 

Slowly, Sniper raised his fist to the metal door, ready to knock and…

And what? Say... _ what? _

Sniper growled and quickly shuffled out of the living quarters of the base, walking back to his rather hastily parked camper outside. Slamming the drivers door shut and turning on the ignition, Sniper forced down the internal conflict that was filling his core, one side screaming him one battle plan, the other telling him to do the most traitorous thing, and…  _ actually listen to Spy. _

Sniper shuddered at the mere idea, before deciding on a third, and probably the best option.

Go for a damn long drive.

* * *

**1972, a Few Aimless Hallways later...**

“This was a idiotic plan.”

“Go sit on a machete.”

Spy rolled his eyes, limping after the rather fast-paced Australian. “Slow down,” He snapped, forcing the whining edge down. “You were dead for half a day, shouldn’t you be resting?” Lawrence rolled his eyes. “That was a short vacation. If you wanna sit down instead of whinin’ like a lil’ bitch, be my guest.” Sniper called over his shoulder, glancing around the next hallway, shifting his grip on the deceased snipers rifle. “Be more useful that way.” Spy scoffed, pausing to lean against a wall to catch his breath. “I can see exactly where Scout gets his mouth from…”

Sniper clasped a hand over Spy’s mouth, dragging him and pressing him against the wall, eyes locked on the corridor ahead. Spy quickly pulled the offending hand away from his mouth, glaring, but Sniper shook his head, raising a finger to his lips to hush him, looking pointedly forward. The Frenchman rolled his eyes, but reached into his coat, pulling out his prized revolver. The two support classed men nodded, before slinking forward along the wall, heading towards the rustling and muffled cursing ahead. Lawrence took a second, before twisting around the corner, rifle at the ready and aimed…

The shotgun bullets singed heavenly past his ears, and he cursed, ducking low to avoid becoming swiss cheese. He heard a relatively familiar sounding cry sound from his would-be shooter, Until a red blur raced past, slamming the assailant to the wall. “Boy, you absolute IMBECILE.” Spy hissed down at the startled younger man, his crimson ballcap barely hanging off his tousled brown hair. Scout cowled up at the Frenchman, “What, ya blamin’ me?! Excuse me, but ‘ve been fightin’ while ya been doing what? Playin’ target practice?” Scout gestured to Spy’s injured leg, causing the older man to glare.

“Boy, I am in a practically _ foul _ mood.” Spy snarled, “And unless you want to see how death feels without the safety net of Respawn-” Scout raised a hand, eyes now on the still stunned Sniper. “Hold up. Sniper, bro… where’s ya  _ clothes _ ?” Lawrence blinked, and looked down at his hastily made wardrobe. “Oh, I… er…” He looked back up at the boy. “Yeah, I actually died earlier today.”

Scout blinked, processing this information as Lawrence looked over his…  _ the _ kid carefully. “Oh, sweet.” Scout said uncertainty then smiled at the older man, looking a bit more relaxed. “So… six months been treatin’ ya well?” Sniper coughed, noting that Spy was starting to glare at him, more than usual. “Well, uh… my parents passed on…” Scout blinked, looking a bit more uncomfortable, and Sniper fought the urge to punch himself in the face. ‘ _ This is not what you rehearsed, Mundy… Get it together. _ ’ He criticized himself, then sighed, taking a step forward. “Scout, listen, we need to-” 

“Oh, right, duh!” Scout slapped his forehead, then reached into his back holster, tossing the Australian a gun. “Right, we’ve got some metal freaks to beat into the dirt! C’mon, maybe we can find ya some pants or whateva!” Sniper blinked, then quickly shook his head, “Okay, wait. I have somethin’ pretty important to-” Scout waved his hand dismissively, cocking his own pistol. “Eh, tell me after we kick some robot ass. Yo, Frenchie! Can you hobble along?” He crowed, and Spy glared, before yelping as Scout kicked at his crutch playfully. “ _ Fils de pute- _ Scout!” The boy only laughed, looking over his shoulder at the two. “C’mon old-timers! Ya better keep up!” With that, the boy jogged ahead, already calling out to any of the nearby robot foes.

Sniper shrugged, and went to go along after him, until a very pissed Frenchman grabbed his arm. “What the hell was  _ that? _ ” Spy snapped, eyes narrowed. “You had made it seem like talking to that brat was the most important thing in the world… and you can’t just spit it out?” Sniper shrugged helplessly, “‘m not a people person! God, how do I even say it?” He snapped back, suddenly irritated at the accusing look Spy was shooting him. “‘Oi, Scout, guess what?! The wanker that ya been hating on for years for gettin’ ya ma pregnant… Oopsie, that was  _ me _ ! Wanna go for a beer?’” Sniper rolled his eyes, shrugging off Spy’s grip. “Look, let me figure out what to do, ‘right?” Lawrence snapped, before turning to follow after the boy.

Spy grumbled darkly, “These two will be the death of me…” He grumbled, before quickly hobbling after them. Sniper quickly caught up with the Bostonian, ignoring the sharp ache from his wounds. It was business time, family matters can come later. “Who else is fightin’?” he gruffly asked, and Scout smiled, “Heavy was kicking anotha old guy last time I check, Paulin’ was also kicking some MAJOR butt and Soldier was-” A suddenly horrified look crossed the boys face, and he stopped, as though lost in a traumatic memory. “Uh… actually, maybe we  _ shouldn _ ’ go this way.” Scout quickly grabbed Snipers arm, steering him away from the exit.

As they strode up the nearby stairway, Spy paused, panting heavily and glaring at them as they passed to climb up the stairs. “You’re both doing this on purpose,” He accused, and Scout tossed over his shoulder, “Hey, if you wanna see how Soldier is fightin’, be my guest!” Scout jogged ahead, to some unbroken windows at the top of the stairway, looking down at the battle below, letting out a low whistle.

“Damn, go Saxton…”

Sniper made it to the top of the stairway, pausing to catch his breath, slinging an arm over one of the major lacerations on his chest, looking over the boy in worry. Any minute, they’d be back onto the battlefield, and who knows if they would make it out again. 

“Right… Scout, listen, there's somethin’ I need to tell you.” Lawrence said, shuffling forward awkwardly, because  _ damn this was going to be weird… “ _ Uh huh… what?” Scout said, nose still pressed up to the glass to gawk down at the scene below, and Sniper sighed, “Kid, can ya please look at me, this is… pretty big…”

Scout sighed and turned halfway, glancing at the older man, “Yeah?” Sniper took a deep, please-don’t-hit-me-immediately-after-I-tell-you breath and opened his mouth to begin… Only to freeze as a bright grey dot appeared on Scouts chest. For a moment, everything froze, as Sniper realized why that particular light looked so familiar…

He lunged forward. Scout blinked in surprise and shifted slightly backwards in confusion at the sudden horror and panic on the Australians face, and in the split second before everything went to a screeching halt, he managed to look down at the glowing, taunting grey LED light that had found it’s target.

There was a single, loud bang as the Sniper-bot hit his mark.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. Part 2 is here! Go enjoy the 'minor' angst and the bickering between Sniper and Spy! Thank you for reading this little two shot, and I hope y'all enjoyed!
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: Sniper and Spy don't stop bickering, cussing, blood, major death, angst, mwhahaha, also jokes about SniperScout (No, that doesn't happen, but Spy is a smartass) Sniper is an awkward dad, Spy is a smartass, and Scout is confused bean and ANGST! Hehe >:3
> 
> Welcome to Team Fortress 2!

**_[Inspired by this post!](http://thebestpartofwakingup.tumblr.com/post/165649506298/proposed-tf2-au-sniper-turns-out-to-be-scouts) _ **

* * *

 

The second shot rang mere seconds after the first, coming from Spy’s prized revolver. The Frenchman watched with dark, narrowed eyes as the Sniperbot sputtered and twitched, before bending over itself, it’s mechanical life fading. Spy slowly dropped his arms as reality and time caught up with him, before turning to see the damage.

Blood. Lots of it. You would think the sight of it, years and years of backstabbing headshots and temporary death, would make the sight of a puddle of blood merely scoff and turn away… But seeing it came out of that boys body, at such a rapid and terrifying rate…

It made the Frenchman feel sick.

Sniper hadn’t made it in time. Now he was just crouched beside the boy, listening numbly to his ragged breathing…

Breathing?

_ Oh god, he was still breathing. _

Sniper snapped into action, peeling away his own makeshift bandage, pressing it against Scouts abdomen, where the bullet had gone through. The boy groaned painfully under him, “Damn man,” He whimpered faintly, his irritation looking forced in an effort to hide his pain. “Tha’... that fuckin’ hurts…” Sniper ignored this and pressed the cloth tighter. “Spy, gimme ya coat.” He said, his voice monotone, but the frenchman raised a brow. “Bushman, this is a custom-tailored Louis Crabbemar-"

“I don’ care if it’s the original copy of the holy damn BIBLE.” Sniper growled, whirling around. “Take off the jacket, or I will shove that plank into your body, before  _ rotatin’. _ ” The glaring showdown between the two men lasted several seconds, until Sniper whipped around when Scout coughed forcefully, arms wrapped around his middle as he whimpered involuntarily from the pain. “I-i mean, uh… Ouch, hurts lika bitch.” Scout groaned, trying to sound like he wasn’t bleeding out from a sniper bullet to one of his major organs. Sniper could only stare mutely for a moment,until a sharp curse, a rustle and then…

Spy handed sniper his stupid, custom-tailored jacket, and Sniper wasted no time.

* * *

**1969**

“You are terrible at hiding secrets.” Sniper scoffed, eyeballing the enemies team Heavy, Spy leaning against the wall behind him in the crow’s nest. “No idea what ya talkin’ about, Spook.” Spy rolled his eyes, nodding to battle below. “The boy is getting suspicious of your motives, Bushman. You need to leave him be, if you still wish to keep your… relationship a secret.” Sniper frowned, narrowing his sights on the huge Russian man, after a second, he pulled the trigger and nodded in affirmation. “I haven’t even spoken to the kid in about a week. Nothin’ to be suspicious of.” He said gruffly.

Spy snorted, “You keep saving him with headshots to his pursuers, and the boy isn’t blind.” Sniper blinked and looked down, feeling his heart sink at the sight of the runner looking down at the deceased Heavy. After a moment, a bit hesitant, the boy looked up warily at the Australian, before giving him a hesitant wave of acknowledgement. Lawrence reddened and quickly ducked out of sight, “Ah piss… How many have I…?”

“I think that was your fourteenth… today.” Spy rolled his eyes at Snipers annoyed groan, “Dammit! I-i don’ mean to, it just… happens!” He insisted, refocusing his rifle on the sill, thankful that the offensive classed merc had run out of his sights. Spy flicked open his lighter, pulling out a new cigarette. “Mon ami, the boy realizes something is up.” He said firmly, and Sniper flinched, thoughts going back to the night he learned the… Truth? Is that what they should call this terrible, unfair, fucked up situation…?

Spy rolled his eyes as he watched the man beside him drown in his own pathetic, self-loathing thoughts. “Lawrence, please.” He snapped, and the Australian glanced at him. “If you insist of internally wrestling with your inner demons, and refuse to acknowledge or attempt the situation, then at least let me deal with it!” Sniper frowned at the offer, straightening up a bit to glare at Spy.

“... If this is a way for you to justify assasinatin’ the kid-”

“Non, it’s me attempting to salvage some of your previous self!” Spy insisted, taking out a drag to come his nerves, before glaring at the man. “In the last week, you have nothing but save that man-child over and over and over once more, before retiring to your moving garbage bin before the boy can come to talk to you, which he HAS been attempting direct contact.” Spy sighed, plopping the smoke back into his mouth, striding towards the exit. “I am going to say something.” Sniper leapt to his feet, “Oh, like HELL ya wi-” 

A large bang sounded from behind, causing Spy to look back, a bored expression as he watched the lifeless body of Sniper crumple, a single headshot wound. “And, you've been carelessly dying left and right, around 87 deaths, I do believe.” Spy stated the statistics coolly, before cloaking and exiting the crow’s nest, his plan already in motion. Would he tell that East Side brat the truth about why he couldn’t land a date, that it was parental influence from a certain Australian father?

No, but he could find a way to make sure Sniper never could.

* * *

 

Sniper pressed the jacket tightly to the boy’s abdomen, and Scout winced and bucked underneath him. “Aw, shit…. It looks bad, doesn’ it?” He asked warily, and Sniper laughed humorously. “Yah…” He said honestly, gruffly. “Yah, kid, It looks really bad.” He said, and glanced up to see Scout's reaction, which was eerily calmed. The Bostonian caught him staring, before smiling weakly, “Hey, been through respawn a million times… This may hurt, but i’ve felt worst.” He insisted, but both He and Sniper had the same thought at the exact same time.

Respawn wasn’t going to catch him this time.

At this, Sniper let out a shaky, somewhat terrified breath, his hands clenching over Spies steadily stained jacket. “Scout, I-i… I gotta tell ya something.” He started, and opened his eyes… Only to see Scout’s slightly unnerved, creeped-out face. “A-ah, man… Snipes, dude…” Scout started, licking his lips nervously as he suddenly began avoiding the older man's gaze. Sniper frowned, then groaned, rolling his eyes. “Ah, no. Scout, I told ya back at Teufort, I don’...”

“Yeah, but like… are ya sure?” The Bostonian asked slowly, looking conflicted, “‘Cause, dude, I appreciate you, and ya seem like a really cool guy, but I-”  “Scout, stop that thought here and now.” Sniper deadpanned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’ know what exactly tha French Tart told you-” “ _ I beg your pardon?! _ ” “But, whatever he said, NO.” He insisted, eyes narrowed. Scout looked visibly relieved, “Oh thank  _ god. _ Because, honestly, ya aint my type...At ALL… Hell, ya too old, ya can be my granny!” He joked, and Sniper winced, looking pained at the light-hearted joke. 

“...Dad.”

Scout blinked, then raised a brow, “Heh… sorry?”

Sniper swallowed thickly, gaze drifting down to the blooded jacket he held against Scout’s body. The boy was extremely pale now, but his eyes were confused, and the ragged, pained breaths he was making… Sniper lived and hunted in the outback, taking down game and otherwise, well enough to know he didn’t have much longer. Sniper took a deep breath, before looking down at the boy, a pained smile on his face. “Okay, kiddo…” He murmured, reaching up to brush away the strands of a lighter, chestnut hair away from the boy’s pale and sweat soaked forehead. Now looking at it, he realized the shade wasn’t that much lighter from his own. “This story is a doozy, so I need ya to listen for a moment…”

* * *

1969

Spy calmly flicked through Scout’s file, taking note of his newly added... family ties. He lazily eyed the name that was on his mother's side, and the grainy photo of a young raven haired Bostonian mother that was on the paper. Julia Monroe, only child, mother of one, single. Spy cocked a brow, raising his glass to his lips as he gazed over the image.

How Sniper, the filthy, urine-slinging Australian, manage to get such a lovely woman to bed, was a mystery for the philosophers.

‘ _ Then again, apparently they were drunk, _ ’ Spy thought mockingly, already picturing a clumsy, stumbling bushman trying to seduce a woman… At a graduation party, no less. ‘ _ Mon dieu, that’s almost laughable! _ ’ Suddenly, his door was slammed violently open, and the Frenchman was knocked out of his mocking thoughts, looking up and astonished to see the very man he had been making fun of.

With a machete in hand.

And a cruel, angry smile on his face, and he kicked the door shut behind him. “I,” Sniper announced, pointing his enlarged blade at the man. “Am goin’ to fuckin’ kill you.” Then, with a bloodthirsty war cry, the man launches himself at the startled Frenchman.

From outside the room, Spy’s smoking room was usually sound proof. But as the suited up, masked merc known as Pyro toddled past in the hallway, they passed and looked at the bolted door, tilting their head at the sound of enraged screaming, cursing, and things being knocked over. After several long moments of listening, Pyro shrugged and walked away, leaving their teammates to work out their issues themselves.

“Are you done?” Spy panted, glaring down at the man he had tangled with his own body, arm straining to keep that cursed blade and arm from severing his head. Sniper snarled back, lurching under him. “You bloody, fuckin’ LIAR.” He hissed, and Spy grunted, struggling to keep the fuming man pinned. “What the FUCK is the matter with ya?!” He snapped, and Spy blinked before smirking. “Ah, so the boy confronted you after my… intervention?” He chuckled, but Sniper was less than amused, lifting his knee to Spy’s unprotected middle.

Spy grunted, but leaned onto the man tightly, preventing his escape. “Drop the blade, and let’s talk about this like gentlemen.” He tries to bargain, but Lawrence only bared his teeth. “Oh, NOW ya wanna discuss things with me? Funny, thought ya wanted to go behind my back and spread some bloody rumor about…  _ God, why would ya even go in that direction!? _ ” He cried, eyes wide and disturbed, less angry and more horrified at Spy’s recent action.

Spy shrugged, looking nonchalant, “Well, a romantic attraction is a good way to explain a man's sudden obsession with protecting someone… Now the boy won’t think anything in the lines of parental ties.” Sniper looked even more disturbed, and a bit more pissed off. “So, instead of going to tell, him the truth, you sprout some bull that I have a bloody crush on the kid?!” Sniper looked like he wanted to gag, “Spy, that is low, absolutely nauseating to think about, and… What the bloody hell?” Spy rolled his eyes, realizing the man and standing, adjusting his ruffled tie. “Think of it this way, bushman.” He said calmly, not assisting in helping the man stand. “The boy will avoid you for awhile, probably out of embarrassment, allowing you time to forget about your little predicament with him. As well, the boy will have no reason to believe the truth, should it ever reveal itself by accident.” The Frenchman sounded so sure, it made Sniper almost want to punch him. 

Instead he reached up to rub his aching temple. “It’s a downright… awkward situation. God, I was horrified when he came to me, asking’ if i had a ‘ _ crush _ ’ on him.” He groaned at the thought of that particularly awkward situation, rubbing his eyes. “God, that’s fuckin’ disturbin’, Spy!” The Frenchman shrugged, pulling out his cigarette case and picking out one. “Well at least it’ll give you a chance to distance yourself. Avoid him, and then forget him.” Sniper was silent, before narrowing his eyes as the man lighted his smoke. “And what if I have to tell him, hm?” He snapped, “Spy, I can’t ignore this forever. The kid deserves the truth, someday, and not something half-assed.”

Spy raised a brow, “What, do you plan on going up the boy, “ _ Ah, Jeremy! Guess what, I happen to be your father, is that not quite a coincidence?’ _ ” He snorted, turning back to right his armchair backup, ignoring the disaster his smoking room had become in the two’s tussle. “Yes, because that won’t lead to disaster and a dead Bushman, Lawrence.” Lawrence was silent for a long time, “...Spy, I don’t know what to do.” He said quietly, looking at the man half-pleadingly. “I can’t keep quiet forever, i’ll go nuts. What should I do?” Spy paused to look at the Australian, who, to be honest, looked absolutely pathetic to him.

After a moment, he sighed. “Fine, if you want to tell him, do it at the last possible minute. It’s my plan, anyway.” He said, turning away when Sniper looked at him in surprise. Lawrence blinked, “For… ya kid? The BLU, he… doesn’t know?” Spy chuckled humorlessly, looking into the red flame on the tip of his smoke. “No, he suspicious, though. And if I have it my way, He’ll only hear it from me, when he’s bleeding out before me.”

* * *

**Present Day**

“I was 18, ‘bout a month away from 19,” Lawrence starts, avoiding looking directly at the Bostonian. “Graduated about a week before, a few mates I knew were off to this bar. We met some tourists an’...” He paused, swallowing thickly, while Jeremy looked at him, looking slightly unnerved. “...Met this lady. I didn’ learn her name ‘til about three years ago.” Sniper glanced at Jeremy's eyes, and smiled almost apologetically. “I-i didn’ get to know Julia that well, but she seemed like a wonderful woman.” He sighed, then looked back down at his hands covered in the younger man’s blood. “Scout, that was less than a year before ya were born.”

Scouts eyes widened, and he flinched. “...W-wait...whaaaat?” He looked more pale than was humanly possible, before he let out a forced laugh, wincing in pain. “Ah heh… is… i-is this a joke?” Jeremy sounding almost desperately, trying to hang on to the reality that made more sense and not… whatever this was turning out to be. Lawrence chuckled weakly, “Evidence isn't entirely non-existent. Had the same hair color when I was younger, and ya ain’t that short.” Spy spoke up from a few feet away, “You both have the same tragic luck with women as well.”

Sniper didn’t turn. “Spy, i’ll kick ya arse for that, just ya wait.”

“Hm, fair enough.”

A small chuckle sounded from the weakening boy, and Sniper frowned deeply, looking gloomy.

“I… I know I ain’t what you expected.” He murmured, shifting his hand up to grip Scouts shoulder, in an attempt at comfort. “I know you may not like it, or  _ me _ or… anythin’ about this. And I know… I wasn’t there for ya.” Lawrence said, and that gloomy expression darkened even more. “Ya have no reason to consider me to be… well, _ anythin’ _ to ya. I didn’t tell ya of this for three years, and I certainly had no hand in ya life,” A small smile. “If I had, we… we wouldn’t be here, I can promise ya.”

Sniper looked at the Bostonian, who was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Lawrence felt the ebbing dread within him start to rise, and he felt his grip on the boys shoulder tighten. “Scout… Jeremy.” The name felt strange on his tongue, but it made the boy focus on him. That was all that mattered to Lawrence, in that moment. “‘M not a good father, and ya have no reason to call me so… But I hope, at least by being here now,” He smiled weakly, shrugging helplessly. “Least ya can credit me for tryin’, in the end.” Jeremy blinked groggily, before offering up a weak smile to his… well, whatever Sniper was now. ‘ _ Dad _ ’ just felt too soon.

“Ya did… pretty good… for a… one-time dad…” He muttered, before his eyes slowly flickered shut, and the pained tremors stilled beneath Snipers hand. Lawrence blinked, the slowly pulled his hand away, eyes locked on the boy, looking, searching for any sign…

Nothing. Absolutely  _ nothing... _

Sniper bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a long, terrible moment, fists clenched on the ruined jacket he still held to the body. The Frenchman slowly, hesitantly stepped forward, face slightly conflicted and a bit uncomfortable at the scene he had witnessed, “Bushman…?” The Australian stood abruptly, back still to the Frenchman. “...Stay here. Ya can’t fight.” Spy frowned, “And you are?”

“Yes,” He said curtly, starting to head back down the stairs, seemingly now immune to his previous injuries and mortuary lacerations. Spy frowned, taking a few steps after him. “Lawrence, now is not the tim-” “No, Now is the perfect time.” Sniper said, turning and lifting burning, yet cold eyes to Spy’s, his pure fury radiating from his frame. “It’s time to get back to work.”

With that, the Australian Sniper strode out from the stairway, and soon found his way out into the sunlight, but he ignored the sudden volume increase from the ongoing battle. He ignored the sights of his fellow teammates battling with the metal counterparts, he ignored the cheerful call from Soldier, and he especially ignored the pounding dread and grief that filled his head.

All that mattered, was putting that rifle back into his hands and refilling on ammo. ‘ _ Back to work. _ ’ thought the Australian father who just lost his son. Shooting down any and every foe in sight, was the only thing keeping him occupied at this time.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Spy was debating where to put the body or at least where to bury him...When the boy suddenly coughed. Spy would swear to his dying day, he did not cry out shrilly when he automatically pulled out his pistol, aiming it at the previously dead body. Scout coughed again, before looking up at the Frenchman. Neither one really spoke, until Scout grinned widely, dazed from the bloodloss. “Hey… don’ point a gun at God's gift…” The Bostonian chuckled, then winced, pouting down at his wound. “Ouchie…”

Spy relaxed, stepping over and leaning down, grabbing the boy and, with some difficulty managed to haul up the boy. “I won’t baby you.” He swore, pulling the boys arm around his shoulders to support him. “You need to walk for me, understood?” Jeremy shrugged, and Spy took that as affirmation, tossing his plank away. “I saw God.” Scout chirped, that stupid dopey grin on his face. “That’s nice. Now shut up, or you’ll lose more blood.” “Mmmmm, okay.” The boy thankfully stayed silent as they hobbled out of the building, both of them wincing at the sudden exposure to the sunlight.

“... So, uh… Snipe’s is...?” Scout sounded a little less dazed, and Spy raised a brow at how quiet the boy suddenly became. “Your father, yes. Medic ran a blood test three years ago, it was a perfect match.” He said bluntly, and Scout blinked slowly, before frowning giving him a odd look. “Wait, wasn’t that the same time you told me-?” “That our resident Australian had affections for you? Yes, exactly.” Scout glared at the man, looking disturbed. “Dude, what the fuc-” Spy rolled his eyes, scanning the less occupied side of the battlefield. “An attempt to keep you two more distanced, until it was time for the truth. It worked, last time I checked.”

“Well, no shit!” He snapped, “Urgh, that's just terrible, Sp-” He trailed off suddenly, pulling Spy to a stop as he looked out at the battlefield. Spy followed his gaze, before smirking. “Well, apparently the Bushman was capable of returning to battle.” Scout was silent, watching the Australian, thankfully now in his proper suit, shooting at robots, at random but on target. The younger man watched quietly, watching the mans skill with new eyes. Even from here, Scout could see the furious pull of the trigger every few seconds, the tense, monotone motions the Australian made every few seconds when he changed targets.

 

After a long moment, Scout looked up at Spy, looking nervous. “Things are gonna be weird as shit now, ain't it?” He asked, sounding like he already knew the answer. Spy only smirked in response, nodding to the enraged man, already picturing his inevitable relief upon learning of his son’s survival. “Most likely. My suggestion is to follow your father's lead, and get back to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave comments, kudos and check out my other stories! 
> 
> THANKS AGAIN! Hope you ENJOYED!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there goes a cliffhanger!
> 
> See you until next time, try not to stress about this until then!
> 
> Thank you and I hope y'all enjoyed!!!
> 
> Part 2 will be released on NOVEMBER 17, 8 PM PST


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